


Life Goes Not Backwards

by Aliset



Series: A Universe Next Door [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Canon Divergent, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, Gen, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M, Not canon compliant past TWS, SO MUCH FLUFF, Team as Family, Yes this is part of "The Ability to Stop" 'verse, but you don't have to have read that to understand this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliset/pseuds/Aliset
Summary: Written for the Happy Steve Bingo prompt of "caught in a tea party wearing a tiara." Steve attends a tea party and he and Bucky come to a big decision. Set approximately six years after the end of the events of CACW and "The Ability to Stop."





	Life Goes Not Backwards

 

\--//--

Bucky stood in the entryway to the studio and paused, wishing for a moment that he had any of Steve’s talent for drawing. His husband was sitting on the floor of the studio, a tiara perched precariously on top of his head while Esihle, Sam’s oldest daughter, poured tea from a yellow teapot. Bucky’s breath caught—he recognized that teapot. Pepper had sent it the month before, the first of a series of artifacts she’d “persuaded” the Smithsonian to return, since they’d closed the Captain America exhibition and clearly had no further use for the objects. (Bucky was willing to bet any amount of money that the “persuasion” had taken the form of the threat of a very lengthy lawsuit, but however it had happened, Stevie had finally gotten back some of his mam’s property, and Bucky could have kissed Pepper for it.)

“And what kind of tea are we drinking?” Steve asked in his careful Wakandan. By now, they were all largely fluent, but the sound of the language coming from his husband’s mouth was pleasantly distracting and _hot._ Bucky shifted uncomfortably and focused on the scene before him. _Later,_ he reminded himself, _later._

Esihle grinned, and looked at her own empty teacup. “Purple tea!” She glanced up and noticed Bucky in the doorway. “Unca’ Buck! We’re having tea!”

Steve turned to face him and…apparently Esihle had tried to do his hair too. She hadn’t done a half bad job, for five year old, but the ribbons and bows and braids in Steve’s long hair were… well, it was a look, as Shuri might have said. “I should show your dad this,” he told Esihle, fighting to hide his own grin. “Maybe you can do his hair next.”

Steve shot him a glare, but the effect was ruined by his affectionate smile at Esihle. In the years since they’d arrived in Wakanda, Laura and Clint had expanded their family, and so had Wanda and her husband, and Lindelwa and Sam were expecting their second child any hour now (which was why they had Esihle with them this weekend.) All of the children considered them uncles and their farm a favorite place to visit. But Esihle had a special affection for Steve, and it never failed to make some part of Bucky’s heart both ache and smile. 

“Nuh-uh,” Esihle said with Sam’s grin, “I want to do your hair next.”

Bucky shrugged. His hair was longer than Steve’s now, even if he did wear it up in a bun most of the day. He placed the tablet containing his engineering texts on a side table, and unpinned his hair. “Okay, kid, make me sparkly.”

***  
"Don’t say it,” Bucky warned. Steve mimed zipping his mouth, but couldn’t stop the laughter. The barrettes Esihle had clipped to his hair bounced against the back of his neck as he laughed. 

“Jesus, Buck,” he managed, “do you think there’s any glitter at all left in Wakanda?”

“I didn’t even know you had glitter in here,” Bucky retorted. “Why do you have glitter?”

“I teach a kid’s art class twice a week, remember?” Steve explained. “Little kids like glitter and…well, you did tell her to make you sparkly.” 

Bucky sighed. “I did.” He glanced down at his arm. “Shuri is gonna have a field day when I come in for my adjustment on the arm this weekend.” He rotated the metal arm, expanding the interlinking plates, and wafts of glitter blew gently to the floor. “That’s probably not even half of it.”

“But she had fun,” Steve said, grinning. 

“She did,” Bucky allowed, glancing over at Esihle where she slept on the studio’s couch. “Any news on her mom?”

“Haven’t heard a word from Sam yet,” Steve replied. “But I remember Lindelwa had a long labor with Esihle, so it could be a while.”

Bucky nodded. “Think she’s down for the night?” 

“Why, James Barnes,” Steve said dryly, “whatever are you planning?”

“Maybe a hot bath to soak some of the glitter out of the arm,” Bucky replied, “and I’ll need a lot of help with that.”

Steve silently blessed whatever impulse had led to the installation of that very large tub just off their bedroom. “Let me get her settled into the guest room, and I’ll come join you.”

***  
Steve had managed to remove all the ribbons and barrettes from his hair, and was just about to climb into the tub when he heard a noise from the guest room. Esihle, awake, alone and fretful. Bucky kissed him. “Best go see how she’s doing,” he murmured against his mouth. “I’ll be here. Rinsing the glitter out.”

There was a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt hanging over the back of the door; he got dressed and walked to the guest bedroom. Esihle was sitting up, rubbing the sleep in her eyes. “Hey, honey,” Steve murmured. “Everything’s okay.”

“Mama?” she asked.

“Still with your daddy,” Steve replied. “Remember? You’re going to stay with us this weekend.”

Stella, their housecat, hopped up on the bed and butted her head gently against Esihle’s hand. The little girl smiled and Stella began to purr. “You should get some sleep,” Steve told her. “I bet Stella will stay with you.” 

“Read me a story?” Esihle asked. “The green one.”

Sam had sent a backpack with Esihle; there were a couple of small books in there. The green book was a small collection of Wakandan folk tales written for children. “All right,” Steve replied. “In the dawn of our beginnings…” Esihle snuggled under his arm as he began to read.

Half an hour later, her slow even breathing alerted him that she was fast asleep. Steve closed the book and looked up to see Bucky watching him from the doorway. “How long….?”

“Just a few minutes,” Bucky said quietly as Steve settled Esihle back into her bed. “You’re good with her.”

Steve shrugged, ignoring the pang of what-might-have-been with long practice. “She’s a good kid.”

They stepped out into the hallway, keeping the bedroom door half-open in case she awoke again. “You ever think…?” Bucky murmured as they walked into their own bedroom.

Steve pulled his t-shirt off, ignoring the sudden lurch of his heart. “What, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed. “You ever think we might adopt a kid?”

“I…” Steve sat down hard on the mattress. “I’ve thought about it a time or twenty in the last few years, yeah. But you never said….”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Neither did you, pal. But I’ve seen you with Barton’s kids, how you are with them, how much they listen to you, and Stevie, you’d be a good dad.”

“Maybe,” Steve allowed. “But is that something _you_ want? Because I’m not parenting by myself here.”

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky said, tying his hair back in a low ponytail before he climbed into bed. “I got to thinkin’ about it bein’ around Barton’s kids. Reminded me a lot of my family, how…” he breathed out. “I keep thinking, if I’d come home from the war, I’d have found some dame and we’d have had a family.”

Steve nodded against his chest. It was just the way things were, back then. “Yeah, and I’d have spoiled them rotten. But that’s something you want now?”

“Well, not a _dame,_ ” Bucky said, nuzzling the top of his head like he used to do when Steve was a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter. “But yeah. Let’s talk about it, at least. We’re in a pretty good place to be parents, don’t you think?”

“I do,” Steve murmured, surprising himself even as he said it. He and Bucky were as retired from fighting as it was possible to get; Bucky was working on his master’s degree and Steve was an artist, a teacher. They’d made a life here, as the other ex-Avengers had, and it was a good, stable one. “But I don’t even know what’s involved in adoptions here.”

Bucky had never blushed easily; Steve’s Irish coloring had doomed him to blush easily and often. But as Steve watched, Bucky flushed a little. “I, um, might have done some research.”

“And?” 

“There aren’t generally a lot of kids up for adoption at any time, because tribal ties mean that there’s usually someone to step in if the parents are unavailable. But when there isn’t…Steve, we qualify. We _have_ a tribe.”

In their daily lives, Steve didn’t often think of the existence of their tribe, which had been created when Sam wanted to marry Lindelwa. Lindelwa was the last of her tribe, and Sam had had no tribe under Wakandan law, so---hewing to the Wakandan tradition that marriages should be one of equals---the king had authorized the creation of a tribe consisting entirely of the former Avengers and their families, with Sam as the leader. “I’m the co-head of the tribe,” Steve said, “so I’d just have to get the consent of---”

“Right,” Bucky said, grinning. “Can you imagine Laura or Sam saying no to us adopting?”

As a matter of fact, Steve couldn’t. “But it can’t be that simple. Can it?”

“Only Wakandan citizens can adopt, and we’d have to pass some evaluations by Childrens’ Affairs here,” Bucky said. “Along with character references. But it’s possible so…Stevie, what do you think?”

He could hear the slow breathing of Esihle down the hall, remembered standing with Sam at her naming ceremony years before---Esihle Grace, he recalled the officiant saying, holding the squalling baby up to the sun and the endless Wakandan sky---the pang he’d felt then just as strong as it ever was. “I think…yes. Let’s start the process.”

The kimoyo beads on his bracelet began to flash. “That’ll be Sam,” Steve said around a yawn, activating the communications bead. 

“It’s a boy,” Sam announced, happy but also clearly exhausted. He was holding a swaddled bundle as if it contained something infinitely precious. “Nearly ten pounds. Lindelwa’s sleeping right now and so is the baby. How’s Esihle doing?”

“She’s fine,” Steve told him. “Sleeping down the hall. Only had to read her the story of how the giraffe got its neck once.”

Sam chuckled. “You must have mad parenting skills there---I usually have to tell her two or three stories to get her to sleep.” 

Bucky exchanged a quick look with Steve and clasped his hand. Something in Sam’s eyes sharpened. “Guys? Did I miss something?”

“No,” Steve said, smiling. “We’ll ask you about it later.”

“Okay,” Sam answered, unconvinced. “I’ll pick up Esihle tomorrow afternoon so she can meet her brother.”

“Sounds good,” Steve replied. “Congratulations and thanks for letting us have her overnight.”

“She loves you guys,” Sam said warmly. “Who else would I trust with her?”

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky said. “Go get some sleep.”

“You too,” Sam said with a cryptic smile. “While you still can. Good night, guys.”

The communications bead switched off. “Dammit,” Bucky said dryly. “He’s figured it out.”

“I don’t think he was called ‘the Falcon’ just because he could fly,” Steve agreed. “I bet you a couple of days of goat chores that we have the contact information for someone at Childrens’ Affairs in our message queue soon.”

“You ready for this?” Bucky asked, his own voice going soft and just a bit drowsy.

Stepping out of Howard Stark’s metal coffin, free of pain and able to breathe easily for the first time in his life, hadn’t felt as exhilarating, as life-changing, as the prospect of becoming a father. “Yeah, I am.”


End file.
